’Lias
Chapter fourteen
‘Lias
I hear her before she ever makes it into her apartment—the unmistakable jingle of keys announces her arrival.
Coming through the door, she flings them onto the table in the entryway, like she does everything else.
She doesn’t bother to kick her shoes off, nor leave them in a heap at the front door though.
The absence of their audible thump tells me she’s in too much of a rush to worry about them.
Instead, she barrels down the hallway, the carpet muting her footfalls as she steps into the low light of her living room.
Her self-preservation is at an all-time low today—that or something tells her I’m already here, looking for me in the wrong places. We’ll work on that later. Right now, I’m going to sit here in the dark and watch as she searches, and fails, to find me.
My Sunshine doesn’t drink. So, I took it upon myself to bring a bottle of my favorite whiskey and use her glassware as if I own it. In a roundabout way, I do; I own her and she owns all the things in her bat cave—semantics.
Watching her has become my favorite pastime. Sports and military documentaries have lost all of their appeal, especially when she’s suspicious and cautious like now. Easing around the place she calls home—feeling danger, but not yet seeing it. Ready for a predator to jump out and gobble her up.
Skittishly, she places her to-go container on the island, leans to the left, to peek through the open door of her office. Then she shifts through the kitchen toward her bedroom, slow and easy—my timid Spawn’s ready to run.
Do it. Give me a reason to chase you. I’ll have you under me, crying before you can reach the door or scream for help.
The thought makes my cock jump—hunting her like a fugitive, forcing her to her knees, and making her atone for every second of unacceptable behavior.
One day I will, multiple times, until Pavlov himself rolls over in his grave.
Punishment will be expected every time her bratty attitude flares to life; today isn’t that day, though.
I want to enjoy this, to eat her alive, make her squirm and scream my name rather than letting her mouth write a check her ass can’t cash.
Show her how fucking good I can make her body feel after going toe to toe with demons.
Lifting the glass tumbler to my lips, I take a sip, swishing the amber liquid around in my mouth before swallowing and savoring the burn on its descent.
The clink of ice meeting the glass has her whipping around, platinum strands I’m aching to fist and use to shove her face down onto her plush bed become airborne and crash across the bridge of her nose and curve of her lips.
Blown pupils search the darkness, looking for me to pop out and scare her, but I remain seated.
Instead, I shift the glass in my hold once more to make the ice sing.
Frozen in place, she zeros in on me, and all of my blood plummets to my dick.
Our eyes finally collide, and for a split second she has me wrapped around her finger.
It’s short lived when hers narrow and the lips I’ve been craving begin to move.
Lifting the glass again, my pointer finger sticks out in warning. She stops herself, her smaller hands flexing defiantly at her sides. Thin digits twitch rather than form fists, because deep down I know she’s dying to touch me too—violently, reverently, hungrily, doesn’t fucking matter.
“Before you start running your mouth, you’re already owed punishment. Don’t make it worse by pushing your luck.”
She seethes beautifully—don’t think I’ve seen someone show as much hatred with so much elegance. She’s all sharp features, eyes glowing through the low light, and crossness I’m eager to take out on her soft skin.
Thank my lucky stars for a photographic memory because I never want to forget the look on her face, especially when I spank every bit of arrogance out of her.
Placing my drink on the small table to the right of the chair, it clinks when the two surfaces meet—the loudest sound in this massive living space. She’s too far away for my liking, but the moment I tell her to move, her body won’t—that mouth will.
Standing, my jacket slides off and drapes over the back of the chair. I take my sweet time preparing for her, placing the items from my pockets next to my abandoned drink, allowing anticipation to set her on a bladed edge.
I haven’t heard from her in over a week.
I panicked, looked for her mugshot in inmate listings, checked hospitals and the morgues.
Had something happened, Kace would have told me, but when you’re invested as much as I am, overthinking is second nature.
The radio silence had me losing my fucking mind.
Here she is, though, in a cute little sun dress and sandals.
Hair pulled back in a long ponytail that hangs in the space between her shoulder blades, perfect for me to fist and lead her around with.
The second my client released me, I made a beeline for this apartment.
Still in my duds—black slacks, button-up, and Oxfords—I start on the sleeves next.
Cufflinks ease from the button holes where they’ve suffocated my wrists for hours.
As my deft fingers work the fabric and fold the cuff, cool air races over my tanned skin.
The pressed cotton strains around my forearm, becoming more difficult to roll the closer it gets to the ditch.
One step after the other, I close the distance while working on the second cuff and sleeve.
I refuse to give her my eyes as I speak, because the wild thing may see it as an invitation to sass me with every excuse in the book—or insult, whichever.
“Do you understand how nerve-wracking it is when you don’t communicate with me?
Hell, at least when you look at my texts it shows they were delivered, but not this week.
It was dead silence. Let me make something abundantly clear, Sadie—I will not go another week without having contact with you.
The next time you surpass twelve hours, I’ll find you, drag your ass into this apartment, and show you what happens when I worry. ”
Reaching her, I shove my hands into the pockets of my slacks before I do something stupid—like hurt her.
Allowing her to make eye contact with me, her head tilts as we stand just a few inches apart.
I can smell the coffee on her breath and the sweetness of whatever dessert she had at dinner.
On the counter, the remnants of her chicken piccata I can’t wait to eat while she begs.
You bet your ass I knew where she was—I always know where she is. Half because I’m too obsessed to leave her alone and half due to her dad, who invited me. I missed her graduation, I missed the celebration, but the night is far from over. I have a gift for her. One she will have to earn.
“Missed you.”
Sadie stares, various expressions roll across her face in waves like those of a ticklish snake.
I’ve always been fascinated by how she simultaneously shows every broken emotion then tries to mask them.
Unfortunately for her, I see it all. She wears what short list of emotions she has on her sleeve and I eat it up.
Reaching out, my thumb brushes over her bottom lip. It’s soft, plump and warm, and my teeth silently ache to sink into it. I want to revel in her skin breaking under force, whether that be from my teeth, my rough hand chafing her tender flesh, or me finally claiming her delectable body.
Give me one reason, Sunshine.
“Speak.”
“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? One ‘I miss you’ doesn’t give you the right to speak to me like a dog!”
Oh, I like how sassy she is. Makes what’s going to happen to her even more rewarding—at least for me.
The last partial step between us evaporates when I step forward and my hand snaps to her neck.
The suddenness has her retreating back into the edge of her kitchen island where her breath catches behind my palm.
First thing’s first, my free hand drags up the center of her torso before finding a loose bit of fabric and fisting.
With a few hard jerks, the stitches holding it together snap and immediately hangs around her frame.
Of course she fights back. Her fists push and shove at my chest, but as fast and impactful as they are, I don’t budge until the dress drifts off her body and puddles in a pile of scraps around her feet.
“I told you, you’d be punished. Now, keep that sharp mouth shut or it’s next.”
Pulling her away from the island by her neck, Sadie stumbles out of her dress when it catches on her strappy sandals.
I’m mindless seeing her wrapped in mesh and silk.
Demi cups barely cover her tits; the semi-transparent material gives me one hell of an eyeful—rosy nipples hardening the longer I stare.
I’m a fool for her. Her panties match in material and color but they don’t sit low on her hips like her bra does—no.
Thin straps hike over her hip bones and dig into the dips that have formed there.
Like she walked off the cover of an 80s car magazine.
Fuck me. She’s more than I’ve ever dreamed.
“Jesus. Look at you.”
Controlling myself, because two other things need to happen before I sink into her, I spin her around and push her face down onto the cold island counter top.
She tenses at first, whimpering desperately, as the heat of her skin meets the chilled surface—poor thing, not.
Switching my grip, I finally wind my left hand in her long platinum ponytail and rain a sharp slap down on her barely covered ass.
Sadie yelps, her body jerks from the impact, and I bite my tongue to keep from drooling all over her. She jolts again when I spank her a second time. Damn thing tries to open her mouth but I quickly remind her of the rules.
“Mouth shut, Sadie. Do not make me repeat myself.”
Slap, slap, slap.